Memories
by InterestinglySherlock
Summary: A series of memories Jor-El left behind in holographic format for Clark to watch. This will be a series of short stories and drabbles based on Jor-El's life. (MOS-verse)
1. Prologue

There was something of a finality when Clark realized that there were no more ships left. And the key was gone.

He didn't even fully realize it until a day later, when he was helping his mom rebuild the house, and he was carrying a load of wood from the hardware store from Ma's truck—conventionally, for many reasons, one of them being it reminded him of what Pa would say...in any case, he put the wood down, and stood there for a moment.

"Something wrong, honey?" Martha Kent was ever-perceptive of her quiet son's moods. She wiped her forehead with her glove, leaving an endearing smear of dirt on her forehead.

"I just realized, that I had so much I wanted to say, and I never did..." he said, sounding a bit lost. She frowned.

"To Jonathan?"

"To both of them," he said, in that same, low voice. "I had a chance to talk to Jor-El—remember what I told you, about the ship, the spaceship? They're gone. All of them. Even the key, which is what I think made it work. I could have said so many more things, and now..."

"But wasn't he just a computer program?"

"He seemed so real...even if he was just a computer program," he said with a sad little smile. "I feel like I know him now, a little bit."

Martha looked down, and sighed. She wiped off the dirt on her gloves, and then took them off. "Come with me."

"What?"

"Come on. We're due for a break anyway. Or at least I am. Come on." She motioned for him to follow her. Curiously, he followed her through the half-rebuilt house, to a closet that had remained relatively intact. She opened it, and it was packed to the brim with things they salvaged from the wreckage.

"I found it in all the junk that was left behind...not sure if it came from the ship, or those people...or maybe Jonathan had it all these years and never told us, or forgot about it...anyway, I don't know what it is or does, but maybe you can figure it out."

She presented him a small metal box, and opened it. Inside, was something Clark couldn't identify, but it looked Kryptonian. It was a small round sphere, and next to it...was a key. His heart leapt. It couldn't have been the same key that was destroyed, could it? It got sucked into the black hole or phantom zone or whatever it was.

"Maybe he made a copy?" he murmured mostly to himself, as he picked up the pieces of technology. There was a small slot for the key to enter. He was about to insert it when he realized that it still was, indeed, alien technology, and could do some damage if it was something bad.

"Er, maybe you ought to go outside with that?" Martha said in a voice that told him he didn't have any choice in the matter.

"Yeah, I was about to say the same thing," he smirked. "I'm gonna take this a bit of a ways away—why don't you go get something to eat at the Jones' house in the meantime? I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Be careful," she said, even though he'd been hearing that all his life, she would never stop saying it. With a smile and a wave, he took off, disappearing into the clouds with a flash.

***

The desolate wasteland near the mountains seemed a good a place as any to try this thing out. Also Antarctica didn't have that many people in it, considering, just in case it was dangerous. Holding his breath, he dropped the key into the slot.

Nothing happened. It remained a cold, steel ball.

"Great. It was just a case for the stupid key."

"Now, that's no way to speak of what you hold," said a familiar voice behind him.

Clark's face lit up with what could only be described as glee. It was Jor-El—the computer program that held his memories and conscience, but still...

"I thought you were gone," he said simply.

"The ball you hold in your hands is a holographic device. A sort of mini-computer, if you will. I figured something might happen to the original...you could call it file, I suppose...and had taken precautoinary measures. I'm glad that it survived."

"Well, me too! Wait—are you the same as the one I talked to before, in the ship?"

"In a way. The memories of the other construct were transferred to my mainframe the moment it was destroyed. So yes, I know of General Zod's attack on this planet. I trust that you succeeded?"

"At...a cost." Clark's voice came out a bit strangled, and disgusted. "A great cost."

Somehow, even though he was a program, there was a moment of fatherly concern in the hologram's face. "You did what you had to do, Kal. He was responsible for much more on Krypton."

"I can't allow it to ever happen again. I won't," he said, shaking his head, and looking at his hands. "Never." Somehow he was expecting Jor-El to protest, but instead, he nodded.

"I understand. Now, is there anything you wish to ask me? The purpose of the device you hold is to relay information stored. My predecessor uploaded many of his memories to it. I can take you to them, if you wish."

"Wait—what?" Clark frowned. "What do you mean, take you to them?"

With the snap of his fingers, the cold, bleak landscape of Antarctica disappeared. They were on a cliffside, with strange plants. A heavy, ancient red sun hung in the sky like it was tired.

"Welcome to Krypton."

* * *

This is just a story in which to post bits and pieces of short Jor-El related drabbles and one-shots based on his early life and so on, as the computer-program Jor-El takes Clark through a list of holographic memories that he wanted him to see. I was actually just going to post the drabbles but decided on having a story framing device instead. Yay for narrative cohesion! And so forth.

And yeah, I gotta quit posting so many stories about Jor-El, but I just can't help myself. SIGH. Gotta find new characters to ponder over. *grumbles*


	2. School

_School_

Secondary school interview day was often a day of excitement and celebration.

Jor-El thought it was pointless. They all knew what they were going to be, the fields they would study, and the jobs they would have. It was as boring as it was futile.

Thirty or so children sat on a bench outside the grand doorway of the Education Room, where a panel of the various prestigious schools all over the world would interview the children to see which would be the best fit for them for the next ten or more years, where they would continue in their specialized fields. Their general education had already been completed, and now they would truly become the warriors, politicians, and scientists they were bred to be.

A sigh. A girl about Jor-El's age was sitting next to him, and obviously fighting the need for sleep.

"This is so tedious," she muttered.

He eyed the professors milling about. No one seemed to be paying much attention to the children. Satisfied the coast was clear, he leaned over. "I agree. I've been planning to go to the Science Academy in this city for ages. I have no need to be interviewed by anyone else."

She looked at him, curious. "Really? I'm going to the Southoron. They're more prestigious and have an excellent engineering program. This City's Academy is...average, at best."

"I know. That's why I want to go there," he said.

She stared like he was mad. "But surely you want to excel."

"That's what they expect me to do. That's why I don't want to do it," he said, leaning back, with a smirk. He honestly thought she would stop talking to him right then and there. Whenever he let a few of his more...interesting ideas slip out, it often had the effect of isolating him. He had little friends, and that was the way he liked it.

She tucked a dark lock behind her ear. "You're not supposed to have those thoughts," she said. Even though the words were accusatory, she sounded impressed.

He shrugged. "Well, they're there. Genetic anomaly, perhaps? A defect?"

"I don't think so," she said, in a low voice. She looked around. "Sometimes...sometimes I myself wonder what it would be like to be in a different field." As soon as she said it, she looked embarrassed. Everyone was busy on personal computers or talking excitedly to each other. No one noticed them.

Jor-El smiled. "Sometimes, I do too."

Even though he'd never met the girl before, he knew she had to live in their sector, for her to be in this particular group of kids. He bowed his head in a traditional greeting.

"My name's Jor-El."

"I'm Lara Lor-Van."

"Lor-Van," came the call from the intercom. They both looked up. It was her turn. A short look of panic on Jor-El's formerly impassive face. It was possible he might never see her again, if she went to Southoron.

She got up to leave. He stammered, getting up too, much to the annoyance and surprise of the others sitting around them.

"I..." he started. "I hope you do well, Lara."

"And I hope you do well, Jor-El."

She went into the room and the doors closed behind her.

He didn't care if she ended up on the other side of the world. He'd find her again.

Someday.


	3. Stars

_Stars_

He loved watching the night sky.

Once the last bit of light from the giant sun disappeared from the horizon, the stars came out. Jor-El would make a point to work his way out to the country once every so often, just to see them. He loved hearing the stories about the ancient space travelers, going on adventures and finding terrible and wonderful unknowns. How he would have loved to live in the great golden age of space travel!

Though every time he did look up at the stars, it reminded him how much they had lost.

The age of space travel was over. So many Kryptonians had left. So many had never returned. Abandoned by the planet, or perhaps abandoning the planet, there were countless unanswered distress calls and a hundred lost ships.

Perhaps it was a warning, said the council. Kryptonians were not meant to travel the stars. They ought to stay home, where they belong. See what happened before?

Still, Jor-El watched the rim of the galaxy turn through the sky, like the inside of a giant wheel of light. He imagined all the strange creatures and people that were living out there, perhaps not even knowing that a world had tried to reach them.

He was lying on the cold hard ground of a high-altitude empty wasteland, one of the few places on Krypton with absolutely no light pollution. The ground felt like it was trapping him, keeping him attached, when all he wanted to do was fly out there, and discover things.

It was pointless, they said. It served no purpose, and was a waste of resources. Why bother? It was too dangerous.

It was more maddening that they had been there before, he mused, and then stopped, rather than not having gone in the first place.

He pointed a finger at a random star, imagining the planets that surrounded it. It would be light-years away, taking forever even with their fastest technology. That's where he wanted to go. Right there.

He supposed he was the only one who cared, anymore.

An earthquake rumbled through the ground, even at this high altitude plain.

Now no one looked to the stars.


	4. Warrior

_Warrior_

There weren't any wars anymore.

Sure, there was the odd criminal or two, but for the most part, Krypton was as peaceful as anyone could imagine it to be. That didn't stop the warrior class from being the best, however. A rich history of conquest and defeat and conquest again led the foundation for a need of such people, even though there weren't as many as say, the manufacturing class.

"Let's see the _scientist _think his way out of this one!" the boys teased as Jor-El was pushed into the middle of a muddy circle, on a forlorn road outside of primary school. Even during the first decade, the children were already quite ready to take on their respective roles.

"I'm not a scientist! I hate science!" Jor-El lied, out of fear and his young age. He sat there in the mud pool, sludgy water dripping off of his formerly prim school uniform. The long tails of the coat dragged listlessly behind him. His eyes opened wide as the circle of larger, tougher boys closed in. If the adults had seen this, they would have immediately put a stop to it. But there were no adults near, they'd made sure of it.

One of the other boys raised a fist—and it connected with an outstretched hand.

"That's enough!" another boy had suddenly leapt in front of Jor-El. It was like out of one of those adventure stories, where heroes come out of nowhere. Jor-El was surprised—he'd seen the other kid somewhere before, but that wasn't the surprise.

He was one of the warrior kids.

They never stood up or protected anyone but their own.

"You leave him alone, or I'll take all of you down, right now!" he yelled. He was much bigger than the other kids, but they were about the same age. It was more of the ferocity of his stance and his yelling, perhaps, that made him seem tougher.

"He's got a smart mouth," one of the bullies sneered. "We're just teaching him a science lesson about making us look dumb in class."

It was true, the mixed science class often made Jor-El and the other so-called smarter kids, bred to be geniuses and scientists, look much better than the other classes. It was normal, but the various young egoes weren't quite grown out of it yet.

"Get out of here!" the kid knocked his foot into the ground and mud went everywhere. The bullies flinched, they were taught all their lives how to respect physical power, and they knew that they were outmatched. They knew who this new guy was—he was the top of their class in everything that mattered to them—fighting, martial arts, physical fitness. Reluctantly, the bullies slowly scattered.

"Are you all right?" The kid offered a hand to Jor-El, and helped him up out of the pool.

"That was...really unusual of you. Why would you help me?" he said, rubbing the mud off of his face. He was fascinated. This never happened.

"I...I don't know. I just like protecting people, that's all. That's what Kryptonian warriors do, anyway," he said with a smirk. "We protect Kryptonians."

"Tell that to those guys," Jor-El muttered.

"Don't worry about them. They're idiots and don't understand the importance of having a brain," In a low voice, the kid whispered. "Believe it or not, I'm kind of jealous. You get to learn about all kinds of neat things and make discoveries and make a difference. What do we have to do except...be security guards and ceremonial soldiers?"

Jor-El was shocked. He thought he was the only one who had such...controversial thoughts. "I thought you all loved being...well, going on adventures and things like that? Most of the warrior kids thinks learning is boring."

"They're ridiculous. At least one of us understands the power of science."

Jor-El looked at his chronometer on his wrist, caked in mud."Well...I better get home before mealtime. " He outstretched his hand in a greeting.

"Thanks. I'm Jor-El, by the way."

"Zod," the other kid shook his hand once, in the customary greeting. "See you around, Jor."


	5. Strength

_Strength_

"What are you doing, Jor?"

The young scientist looked up sheepishly from a tangle of wires and various energy batteries. It was a bit of a social taboo for someone of his rank in the lab to create personal experiments, even if it was never explicitly stated. The third-year lab student glared at him, knowing full well that he was not logging the growth patterns of _tbyrania_ _inplocaatus_ plants in any way, shape, or form.

"I had to fix the met-tracking machine," he said quickly, but as he did, he regretted it immediately. The met-tracking machine was more or less a tiny, portable telescope that watched for simple, everyday meteors and didn't use old technology like wires and energy batteries.

_Quick, Jor, think!_ "I was going to stay late and work on logging your materials, too, but I have so much to clean up and all..."

The third-year wasn't an idiot. He blinked, then coughed. "Oh. Well, if you were going to do all that then...carry on." He left the doorway, and Jor breathed a rather large sigh of relief. Even though, he was now kicking himself for taking on pretty much a week's worth of work.

It didn't matter-he'd gotten the results he wanted, even though he had to resort using such primitive means as this. He'd been curious for some time about the legends-they were historical documents, but they'd happened so long ago, they were legends by now-of Kryptonian settlers on different planets. There were stories of certain worlds that were set with extraordinary coincidences, such as being in the so-called 'perfect' zone of life habitability within a yellow star's realm...such stars of that age had a peculiar effect on Kryptonian physiology. It was documented fact, but the various Councils throughout the generations had sort of squashed that knowledge, as if they didn't want Kryptonians to travel to the stars and experience something they could never hope to have at home...

It was silly to think of conspiracies, but he was always a bit more imaginative than his peers...

He glanced at the hole in the metal cabinet that he had punched a moment before. He looked down at the wires and leads attached to the perfectly mundane and average muscles of his arms.

Jor-El smirked.

Oh, what an interesting development this was...


	6. Crush

He never forgot the way she looked when she walked into the cafe, long and lithe, with a gaze as cold as ice, commanding the attention of every male in the establishment.

She glanced his way, and for a moment their eyes met, and Jor-El felt his heart squeeze with a strange combination of horror and amusement. He pretended to be highly interested in his cup of corribe tea and looked down as she passed by. She wore a simple black undersuit, a common form of armor that was more casual than the slightly obnoxious heraldry cascaded across the shoulders of most of their sect. Her dark hair was short, as the way of the warrior demanded, but it suited her features.

She was beautiful.

She was Zod's.

And of course, Zod, being his friend, was seated at the same table as he was. They had been discussing the latest Ki-Ball game, one more interested in the warlike strategy, the other more interested in the use of physics and angles as strategy.

"And you didn't see last week's match, the Ravoths were incredible, Ro-Thel's footwork was impeccable-" Zod was cut off when she appeared next to their table. Jor-El tried not to look at her at all, and instead pretended to be very interested in a tangled design woven in the table.

"Faora, my dear, won't you join us?"

Please, no.

"Of course. I was waiting for you to invite me," she said. Most girls of her social standing would try and be cute or petulant, but not the warrior types. She spoke simply and effectively. Zod was actually different in that regard, he liked to talk when he wasn't around his own kind, maybe out of compulsion of having to stay mostly quiet all day in training. Faora was more traditional, Jor supposed.

Zod politely obtained a chair from an empty table and set it next to their own.

"Jor-El, I hope this day has gone well for you," Faora said, inclining her head in the standard greeting-quite standard-as she sat down.

"And I hope that this day has gone equally as well for you," Jor-El quickly recited the required words back, even though he would have liked to say that he thought she was amazing and beautiful and that he would love to have dinner with her someday-

A serving robot hovered over to take her order. She requested a simple glass of water. It was not a hard and fast rule, but the warrior class abstained from anything even remotely stimulating, including all sugars and mild teas. Zod was on his third cup of Roblacho, the hardiest blend that was notorious for keeping college students up for days during their finals. It barely phased him.

"Anything to eat, madame?" the robot asked.

"I have had my allotted calories for today. I am fine," she said. The warrior class were on a strict diet, for obvious reasons. Jor-El often snuck candy and pastries to Zod, who would unfortunately have to work it off later during their exercise sessions. He doubted Faora would take kindly to their shenanigans.

"Did you see yesterday's game?" Zod asked her.

"No, I was studying. I'm surprised that you had time to view it."

"I was studying too, watching and studying," he said quickly. He was smart enough to do so, it was just frowned upon.

"If your scores fall, I may have to report your mistake," she said quietly, as the robot brought the glass of water. Zod sighed, but gave her a bit of a sappy smile that only the young in love were apt to do.

Jor-El sighed.

She was beautiful, all right, but she was certainly not the one for him.


End file.
